The Writings of Theodore Nott
by Lily30323
Summary: A collection of letters, notes, manuscripts, and journal entries written by the quill of none other than Theo Nott. Series of One-Shots.
1. The Sorting

Dear Father,

Since I figured that you would write back the moment my first day started, I am writing to you to tell you that, yes, I am in Slytherin. Though it wasn't as if there was a single person bearing the name of Nott that wasn't in the house I wouldn't want you to worry otherwise. I must admit that the hat had contemplated placing me in Ravenclaw, but only for a mere second. The sorting tradition remains right and true, but there have been some subtle differences.

Purebloods like Abbott and Macmillan in Hufflepuff, for one. Even worse was the fact that they were actually happy about it. More mudbloods have been admitted into Hogwarts each year and the growth of their population has become higher than ever before. And, as usual, the next Weasel was sorted into Gryffindor. There was another strange phenomenon that happened when Harry Potter (yes, he is in my year) was placed in Gryffindor, as well. It appears that Weasel has already befriended him. I, of course, feel bad for the bad company he's made, but I knew better than to step in. The worst situations are better left alone. On the other hand, Draco Malfoy ended up doing just that. Potter protested that he had "already found good company" and left Malfoy standing there, looking like he had just been confunded. But I suppose you have a much more intertwined relationship with the Malfoys than I may ever have. You know very well their tendency to offer contracts beneficial to only themselves and form false alliances. Why would Malfoy have the desire to be guarded by two hulking dimwits and Parkinson? I've no idea. Just looking at all these disgraces causes me to cringe on the inside.

The thought of requesting you home-school me had come up, but it hasn't even been the first day yet. If there is anyone who knows to stay calm in any given situation, it would be you. To look on the bright side, not all purebloods of my generation have gone to ruin. I've formed a sort of friendship with Blaise Zabini, as he thinks of it. To me, he's only an acquaintance, but I suppose it would be good to have at least one person who I can trust to survive here. He seems to be the only person at Hogwarts that knows how to be mature and clearly understands where his loyalties lie. We managed to make some conversation on the train, which didn't last long, since he had found my compartment near the end of the trip.

As for the classes, I highly doubt that any of them would be interesting except for Potions. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is a trembling idiot who wears a turban of garlic to "keep the vampires at bay." The subject has always been something of a joke to me. Charms is another effortless high grade that I can advantage of. You know how Transfiguration has never been a talent of mine, but I doubt I won't be able to catch on quickly. I ask that you don't scold me for not taking my classes very seriously. To be blunt, I doubt you would either.

I am already thinking of which electives I want to take in the third year, but I figure there's no need to think too far ahead. After all, you might end up homeschooling me very soon. I would also like to add that I hope you don't think I am judging my peers too harshly. I prefer to call it 'analyzing.'

Sincerely Your Son,

Theo


	2. First Week

Dear Journal,

To be frank, I feel stupid writing in this thing. I found it while searching the shelves inside Flourish and Blotts at my Diagon Alley school supply shopping trip. It wasn't as if I needed a yet another useless trinket, but it's bound with dragon's hide and contains premium parchment. It costed fifty-two galleons, but father had always made sure that extra emphasis was placed on the Nott family's wealth. Almost my entire allowance was spent that day.

Father had always been careful with his money, but he would buy the occasional pricey jewel or watch just for kicks. Not many families could afford to spend their galleons on classy school supplies like the notebook I'm writing on. I have to admit that it's pretty cool. I was waving it around the Slytherin commonroom while Draco looked on with envy. Even Lucius wouldn't think of letting his son buy "useless" items. I simply couldn't resist. The temptation in my gut was overwhelming. At that time, I had felt like the foolish child I was when I was five years old. The one who thought that money and blood purity could gain everything, including the prevention of death or the cure of illness. Now that I look back, I feel even more stupid for feeling the need of Draco's envy.

It wasn't as if he was better than me. I had always thought of myself as too confident to care what others thought of my status. There had been no need to flaunt it. It just was and people would notice of their own accord. Showing off was the sort of thing that Draco would do. He was the one who felt the lack of self-confidence, not me. I realize that I must have more self-restraint and remember exactly whose name I carry. It is just a journal. Something I deserve to have. Not too much more symbolic than that. Over the past two weeks, it's become natural to record my thoughts in it.

The whole prospect of writing "Dear Journal" has become a tedious habit. Sort of like addressing a standard letter, but to an inanimate object. Pretty useless and stupid, but since I began writing every two days, it's not unusual for me. It's sort of a casual thing that I feel comfortable doing since father always made be act formal in front of the other pureblood families when we went to holiday parties. Since then, it's really just become pointless. On my essay on moonstones for Potions, I made the mistake of heading it with "Dear Journal" and had forgotten to discard the parchment and copy my essay on a different piece. Since then, Snape could hardly take me seriously in the class and his favorite had become Draco instead of me.

Then came that damned feeling of envy that had come on, before. I repeatedly had to remind myself that I didn't care whether or not I was the teacher's pet. The more I thought of it, the more I pictured myself being like Granger the mudblood. Just the thought had made me shudder. I knew I was charming enough to get into anyone's good graces if I wished to, but Severus Snape is about the hardest man to please. Blaise seemed to take note of this, as he's in Advanced Potions, too.

Lately, he and I have been having some minor talks. Nothing too important; just small talk. If there was anything I knew, it was that it was a Slytherin trait to hate small talk. Yet Blaise and I made it every day. After classes, we met together to recount the events of the day. Oftentimes we would take out the Daily Prophet, reading it individually at the same pace and laughing together at pieces of news that we found humorous.

Blaise had a dry and sarcastic sense of humor that I had come to appreciate over the week. Though I would never care to admit it, sometimes I just needed a bit of good company to keep me entertained. Blaise seemed to think of me as a friend, already, though it's only been the start of the year. From the beginning, I had noticed that he was a clingy person. At first, I was apprehensive, wondering why anyone would bother to get in the company of "Emotionless Theo Nott," before I realized something. It had been in the Blaise family history (almost since the beginning of time) for widows to continually search for other pureblood men to date, but not to marry. The husband ended up dead in suspicious circumstances each time. Every time Blaise's mother would remarry, there was a front page article on the Daily Prophet, describing how many husbands she had had, previously and which one she was on, now. I had always found the articles funny before I had met Blaise.

He would never come to me, saying that it hurt his feelings, but I could tell from the look in his eyes that those articles did just that. Each and every one described him as a weak and pitiful child who had gone through "ages of trauma" and had "outgrown himself." As anyone might guess, each article was written by none but Rita Skeeter, herself. It was when I saw in the prophet Thursday evening that one of "the husbands" as I had come to call them, had been found in Malfoy Manor. There were obvious shreds of the evidence proving the manner of death: the Unforgivable Curse of Death.

Lucius was being put on trial this instant, but I knew no one would take it seriously. Everyone knew exactly who had committed the murder.

It even made me feel slightly sympathetic for my newfound "friend." Only slightly. But I felt like I could almost relate to his situation. His situation was almost worse, but I had never once allowed myself to think of that. No one's situation was worse than mine.

I hate to leave this stupid thing on a negative note. After all, I have never been one to wallow in self-pity. Especially not brought about by someone else's self-pity.

So I Guess That's It,

Theo


	3. First Year: November

_T-_

 _What did you get on that essay?_

 _B_

* * *

 _B-_

 _Obviously, I got an "O." I haven't gotten anything other than an "O" so far this year._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _Jeez, I was just asking. I would expect no less than the best coming from you._

 _B_

* * *

 _B-_

 _What did you get?_

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _I got the second highest score after Theo._

 _B_

* * *

 _B-_

 _Yeah, me too._

 _D_

* * *

 _T-_

 _I suppose the Mudblood beat you?_

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _Actually, no. I beat her by 5 points. Snape can't unfairly give points to students who didn't perform as well, but he can give extra credits to his favourites._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _Could you tell the others to stop passing notes? I'm trying to finish my sleeping draught._

 _P_

* * *

 _P-_

 _No one was passing any notes to you. I don't understand why you would be distracted by it. Unless the movements of Draco's muscly biceps when he's writing are so sexy you can't take your eyes off it._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _YOU SHUT UP ABOUT THAT!_

 _P_

* * *

 _P-_

 _I suppose I'll think of it. . . Okay, I'll keep it secret as long as you carry around my books and quills for the rest of year when I'm walking in the halls. But only if you're that desperate._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _Alright. Our schedules are nearly identical, so it shouldn't be too much of an issue._

 _P_

* * *

 _P-_

 _You have no idea. This includes all of my Dark Arts books and my assortment of 20 quills each from a different type of sparrowhawk. It also includes, not only the textbooks that I need, but the ones I carry around like Snape's very own edited edition._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _. . ._

 _P_

* * *

 _Theo and Pansy-_

 _Watcha guys chatting about?_

 _D_

* * *

 _Draco-_

 _Nothing. Just classes and things._

 _T and P_

* * *

 _T and P-_

 _If you insist._

 _D_

* * *

 _T, P, and D-_

 _Doesn't Snape notice us passing notes?_

 _B_

* * *

 _Blaise-_

 _Oh, he does. He just lets us. The many perks of being in Slytherin house._

 _D_

* * *

 _B and T-_

 _Did you guys hear? Potter and Weasel killed a troll! All on their own! Do you believe it?!_

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _Ughhhh! Not this again! Potter did this and Weasel did that and Mudblood did everything. For Merlin's sake._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _Oh, quit being so cynical, Nott. It's just annoying that they'are always in the spotlight and we deserve more attention._

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _It's not being cynical. It's called being a realist. All you're after is fame for petty acts. I have far better things to do in my time. If it were up to me, I wouldn't wrestle a troll unless my life depended on it. Just be glad that you and I are smarter than the "Golden Trio."_

 _T_

* * *

 _B-_

 _You haven't been passing anything, Blaise. What do you think?_

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _Well there isn't exactly anything we can really do about it. I personally have never cared for attention myself, but go ahead and do whatever you please, Draco._

 _B_

* * *

 _D-_

 _Well, we're off, so see you in the commonroom tonight at 7 past noon._

 _B and P_

* * *

 _T-_

 _You gonna be there, Theo?_

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _Nope. Studying 'Restricted Section' Dark Arts. I'm on to Unit 8 in Durmstrang's curriculum: Legilimency and Occlumency._

 _T_

* * *

 _T-_

 _Nerd._

 _D_

* * *

 _D-_

 _Stupid. Bye._

 _T_


	4. First Year: May

_Theo,_

 _I was thinking that father said I could invite a few friends over to stay the winter holidays. I thought maybe you'd like an invitation. The manor is has more than enough space and Blaise and Pansy are staying. We could trade chocolate frog cards and exchange gifts. There's also a giant swimming pool in the shape of a thestral and a mini quidditch pitch for us to use! (Also, there is a huge stash of firewhiskey that father hides from us on one of the top shelves of the cellar.) I would love to have you over since you usually never do anything fun with us and are too busy studying your 'Geeky, Spoilsport Arts'. Please!_

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _I believe 'never' is taking it a tad bit too far. I'll have to think about it. As you probably already know, my father couldn't care less what I did during the holidays as long as I achieve top grades and return home alive so I can keep up the family name. I suppose I could think of it and maybe ask Blaise's opinion. To be honest, I am personally not one for firewhiskey since it is too strong for my tastes. Other than that, there really isn't a reason not to go, but I'm almost finished with the Durmstrang books and it's only been a few months. My fear is really running out of 'Dark Arts' (I will forget what you wrote in your previous note) topics to study so I won't have anything for Pansy to carry, I mean for me to read next semester. I suppose I could move on to the Draught of Living Death, Horcruxes, and the Incantation to Raise the Dead, but I think I'll save that for next year. Unfortunately, I don't really fly (long story including Grandfather Cancerous Nott and a hippogriff; the fear is inherited). Anyway, I'll consider it, but see you next weekend to discuss._

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _The winter holidays are approaching, so I was wondering if I could pretty please take a break from carrying your crap and you don't tell Draco. Please just drop it. I'm like down on my knees (on the stone of the Slytherin commonroom) writing this thing!_

 _Pansy_

* * *

 _Pansy,_

 _Nope! You agreed to the contract in writing. Well, it wasn't official, but you did agree. OH! I just found out a great excuse to head to the Malfoy's with you guys. If you drop the contract, I drop the secret._

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _Alright? What's the agreement this time?_

 _Pansy_

* * *

 _Pansy,_

 _I will be doing some light studying at the Malfoy's while you, Draco, and Blaise are doing mini-quidditch (to put it short, I'm scared of heights and, yes, I've already RSVP'd). So your role will be to carry my books once we get dismount the Hogwarts Express and go to the apparition point. Draco's chauffeur will be driving us to there and apparating us to the manor. Then, your job is to put my books in my room if the chauffeur doesn't do it for you._

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _If you say so! Just don't tell him anything!_

 _Pansy_

* * *

 _P, T, and B,_

 _I've got the RSVP from all of you, so I'm assuming you're coming._

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _I've made the arrangements with father and he says that I can come. Like I said, he basically doesn't care what I do over the holidays as long as I do well in school._

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _Why would he have any concerns about that? You're literally the most perfect student I've met (other than Granger, who doesn't count)._

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _He's a bit paranoid._

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _I can tell._

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Pansy,_

 _Are you even passing this class right now?_

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _Of course I am! I have an overall "A" according to my report._

 _Pansy_

* * *

 _Pansy,_

 _What! Oh! I mean, that's great. I'll stop passing notes to you so you can finish your remedy._

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Draco and Pansy,_

 _Oh, you two! Stop it!_

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _Stop what?_

 _Draco and Pansy_

* * *

 _Draco and Pansy,_

 _Flirting with eachother! Everyone already knows you're smitten, so just start dating and leave it at that!_

 _Theo_

* * *

 _That was very unapproachable, Theo!_

 _Blaise_

* * *

 _D, P, and B_

 _Well, I would apologize, but you have been at this stupid game of back-and-forth for the last three months and it's been driving me mad! Get it over with!_

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Pansy,_

 _Want to start dating?_

 _Draco_

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _Uhhh. . . Why not?_

 _Pansy_

* * *

 _Draco and Pansy,_

 _There you go! Have a happy first date. Whatever you do, don't tell me about it._

 _Theo_

* * *

 _Theo,_

 _That was quite amusing, mate._

 _Blaise_

* * *

 _Blaise,_

 _Quite._

 _Theo_


	5. First Year: End

Dear Journal,

I am sad to say that this stupid object is ruining my already messed up life. I have written in it so often that my writing has begun to take a casual tone to it instead of my usual formal one. Some of my previous entries were so terrible that I've torn the pieces of premium parchment (which probably cost about 5 sickles, each) out of the dragon's hide binding. It's almost as if I've forgotten to write.

Anyhow, while the rest of my housemates are cheering on Slytherin for winning the house cup this year right this very moment, I am writing this. Some people might wonder why I'm not as enthusiastic as the others. It was me who made most of the points for Slytherin from DADA and Charms. I should be jubilant. I shouldn't be writing in this stupid, goddamn journal. But I'm not. And I am. Why? Slytherin. Always. Wins. The house cup is no goal. It's an expectation.

Well, several years ago, Ravenclaw won, but that was due to some chance incident where a girl gained an extra fifty points thanks to the favouritism of Flitwick. It isn't as if Snape never played favourites. He obviously did, but most of our points are actually generated from other classes. If our house solely relied on Snape, we'd only have gained approximately half the points required to win. Of course, we always manage to find forms of mischief at school but for every time we get in trouble we don't get caught. Literally every few weeks the older students throw a firewhiskey party in the common room and just cover up the evidence. Considering he has eyes all over, either he allows the underage drinking or simply doesn't care. Some points came from easy classes, which would basically be all of them. (On second thought, I might want to register for arithmancy in the third year. It would be an easy 'O'. Perhaps even something I would beat Granger in.)

A majority of our house points this year came from Quirrel the squirrel, who was, apparently the Dark Lord in disguise or whatever propaganda Potter and Dumbledore came up with. Whatever the case may be, that would be least likely. Manipulative Dumbledore lured poor, gullible Potter into his trap as he did with many others. He even happened to befriend Grindelwald in his childhood, only to corrupt and betray him. Then, he was able to claim an Order of Merlin, First-Class for murdering him in cold blood and spreading rumours about how his best friend had been evil from the start and he had plotted to kill him since he was a teenager. As this cycle continues to repeat itself, more people are getting caught in the webs he spun. Unfortunately, I am unable to bring sense to his followers. I have learned long ago that it is impossible to reason with unreasonable people. Lately, the whole school, as well as some parts of the Ministry are out of whack all due to another great lie.

Any sensible person would see right through this conspiracy. Unfortunately, the Ministry is lacking in sensible people at the moment. (Or, quite frankly, at all moments. No government organisation is perfect, but the Ministry is below lacking in resources and intelligence.)

Even worse is that he nominated what the school is starting to call "The Golden Trio," (Potter, Granger, and Weasel) as the great adventurers who just happened to get through the defences set up by the teachers to guard the sorcerer's stone. And, yes, I did manage to sneak into a professor's meeting to inform my father on the management of the stone and how it's been guarded from the Dark Lord. Though he's an ex-Death Eater, the Dark Lord uses him as an informant from time to time. Whenever his Dark Mark burns, he is summoned to meet with the most prominent Death Eaters who communicate the Dark Lord's requested information. The only reason my father chose to send me to this stupid school instead of Durmstrang Institute was because Dumbledore, the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, had to be kept in check. It would be much easier to use me to spy from within than from him to attempt to gain information from outer sources. Yes, I am well aware that anyone could find this, but it's the only thing I can confide my secrets in, even if it may be an inanimate object. I'll end up ripping and burning this page in the end, so, if you are reading this, I'll probably be in Azkaban. I'm willing to risk it.

On a more positive note, Christmas at Malfoy Manor went well. As Lucius is a Death Eater himself, who is of far less value than my own father to the Dark Lord, he wasn't exactly delighted to by presence. But it wasn't as if he had any choice in the matter.

Anyhow, the food is going to appear. It's about time; my stomach has been grumbling under the cover of this tumultuous applause.

* * *

Apparently, Gryffindor won. Still, it has been the first time they won since anyone can remember. I suppose that we can commend them for that, but it was pretty unfair of Dumbledore to weave Potter into his lies and congratulate him for it. It's obvious that he had the sense to know that the threat laid within the school, but did he find someone else? Of course not.

The mood in the commonroom is gloomy, which I can't help. So far as my housemates are concerned, I'm just the lanky macabre kid with books for friends and an elderly widower for a father. Then there's Draco Malfoy. An entirely different story. At this moment, guy is prancing around the area throwing fits like a five-year-old with Crabbe, Goyle and lovesick Pansy at his heels. Blaise is yawning, trying to stay awake next to the fireside from eating his steak like a pig and I am writing in this stupid journal in this stupid corner of this stupid commonroom like I usually do.

Time to Discard This Before Anyone Finds It,

Theo


End file.
